


Retrograde

by Purplesauris



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Brief mentions of torture, Fluff, GTA V AU, Gore, Graphic Violence, It's not focused on or anything, Lads versus Gents, M/M, Michael Jones/Geoff Ramsey - Freeform, Mild Smut, Side Relationships - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, They 'respawn', They're all a bit meh about death, They're all immortal, brief mentions of sex, immortal au, no Fake AH Crew, small amount of Angst, well it's hinted at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesauris/pseuds/Purplesauris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Los Santos is run by the Gents. Three men living in a life that never ends, taking down gang after gang and conquering Los Santos city block by city block. The Lads get in the way; three younger men hell bent on making the Gents work for their reputation. One of the Lads takes a liking to a certain mad Gent, and everything spirals from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> This whole piece is based on an ask sent to the great artist Sami Jen over at samijen.tumblr.com, and I was so inspired to write this! I love me some immortal AU where they don't really care about dying, think of it as a temporary road block, so voila! I have written it. As always, love the fic? Hate it? Found a spelling or grammatical error? tell me so at purplesauris.tumblr.com or right below in the comments!

The air whistles past him, ripping at his clothes and threatening to take his mask and leave it far behind were it not secure. The sound of sirens blares behind him and Geoff is yelling in his ear, but that isn’t what Ryan is focused on. Ryan is focused on the thrill of the chase, and even though he’s running away, a bag of cash thrown over his shoulder, Ryan isn’t worried. Ryan can feel the bike shudder underneath him at how fast he’s pushing it, but Ryan just leans forward, rocketing down the highway and zipping between cars. Ryan almost crashes the bike as he turns onto the right ramp, and the police have long since stopped following him in lieu of going for Geoff. Ryan slows down, pulling up to safehouse number 34, or as Geoff commonly refers to it as, the ‘crappiest safehouse I own’. Ryan likes the fact that it’s up in hillbilly country, where he knows that no other criminal really bothers to go to find him. Ryan tucks the bag of cash into the compartment under the seat of the bike before he wanders towards the house, heart calming down after his escape. Ryan looks at a car nearby and walks over, casually sticking C4 to it to blow up later. Ryan hides his bike before he goes inside, whistling merrily as he tugs his mask off and kicks the door closed. Ryan signs off the mic and crushes it under his foot so it can’t be traced.

Ryan wanders into the living room, tossing his mask onto the couch only for the sound of rubber hitting flesh to register. Ryan has his gun out and pointed at the shape when the lamp next to the couch turns on. Ryan’s shoulders slump immediately upon seeing who it is, but he doesn’t lower his gun. “What are you doing here, Ray?”

“Heard you guys pulled off a successful heist.” The voice is casual, but Ryan has learned to try not to trust it as he looks evenly at the man on the couch. His beard is short and neat, and his purple hoodie is free of any dirt or blood. His hands, though, are wrapped in bandages that are spotted with blood, and Ryan fights the urge to pick those hands up and kiss the bandages. Ryan narrows his eyes at Ray while nodding, but when he looks Ray over he doesn’t see anything hinting that Ray is going to attack him. Ryan’s gun stays up even when Ray rises from the couch, and the barrel of Ryan’s pistol presses against Ray’s chest as Ray comes in close. Ryan looks down the inch or two that he has on Ray, and finds Ray leaning in, closing the distance between them, and Ryan jerks himself away. Ryan shoves his gun into his holster, taking a few steps to put distance between them as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“What are you trying to do here?”

“What do you _think_ I’m trying to do?” Ray isn’t one to be denied, and he follows, gaining one step for every two that Ryan takes. Ryan keeps moving, and he’s next to a window, ready to jump out when Ray surges forward, hands slamming onto the wall, boxing Ryan in. Ray leans up, leans in close, and Ryan turns his head. His heart is pounding in his chest, and the scent of Ray’s cologne assaults his nose, making his head swim. Ryan is fighting with himself because he knows what Ray wants, and he wants to give him that, but his unwavering loyalty reminds him that this can’t happen.

Ryan’s hands come up to grab Ray’s arms, and Ray’s pupils blow wide, Ray watching Ryan, and he looks triumphant until Ryan gently pushes Ray back. “We can’t.” Ryan says firmly, and anger steals over Ray’s face.

“We can’t.” Ray says, voice flat as he stares up at Ryan. Ryan swallows hard at the look, and he wishes he still had the mask on, because then he’d have some form of protection. “Why not?” Ray demands, and Ryan groans.

“You know why not, Ray.”

“Tell me yourself. Say it to my face.” Ray spits out, and were Ryan a weaker man he would have flinched at the fury barely concealed in Ray’s voice.

“Because we’re enemies. The proof is on your fingers, Ray. You know this won’t work just as much as I do.” Ryan works to stay firm in his resolution, but Ray won’t take it for an answer. Ray’s left hand curls into a fist, and the letters tattooed on his fingers are stark against the white of the bandages that are covering wound after wound and possibly raw knuckles as well.

Ray turns away, and Ryan thinks he sees tears in his eyes, and Ryan wants nothing more than to draw Ray into his arms, to apologize and say that he was only joking. That they could work something out, jobs be damned, but Ryan just clenches his right hand, knowing the letters emblazoned over his own fingers paint them as enemies. Ryan opens his mouth to speak, but the butt of a gun smashes into his head, disorienting him as Ryan stumbles. He sees Ray holding Ryan’s pistol right before he drops it, and Ryan is glad the safety was still on. His eyes go wide as slim fingers wrap around his neck, thumbs digging into his windpipe and cutting his flow of air off. Ryan’s hands go instantly to Ray’s wrists, trying to break his grip as Ray squeezes tighter and tighter. Ryan can’t breathe, and he’s starting to panic as he tries to throw Ray away from him, but Ray’s body presses up against his own, and Ryan is losing strength fast. Ryan mouths words, desperately trying to ask Ray to stop, but Ray’s expression is set, and Ryan’s vision is blurring rapidly. Blood drips down his face from a cut above his brow, and Ryan is still disoriented by getting hit by his own gun.

“You want to be enemies, we can be fucking enemies.” Ray says, and Ryan’s breath gurgles, pain ringing through him as Ray slams his head back. Ryan’s head hits with a crack, and Ryan is lingering on the edge of death, but Ray’s fingers loosen to allow Ryan to gasp in two desperate breaths, only to lose them when Ray slams his head back again. Ryan can feel warm blood dripping into his hair, and pain lances down his spine. Ryan doesn’t know how Ray overpowered him, and he should have been more careful, should have known that Ray would react this way. Ryan thought he knew Ray better. Ray keeps slamming Ryan’s head back, and there’s some desperate kind of intensity in Ray’s eyes as he stares wide eyed and wild into Ryan’s eyes. Ryan hears a crunch, and the fingers around his throat tighten as Ryan’s vision is filled with black dots. Ryan mouths Ray’s name, a final plea before he slumps against the wall and everything goes black.

Ryan watches from above as Ray lets the body in his hands drop, and Ryan vaguely realizes it’s his body, but he only sighs. Ryan goes and sits down next to his slumped, broken form, remembering not to float through the ground, to solidify enough to sit on the floor. Ryan watches as Ray backs up, staring down at his hands. Ray’s eyes flick to Ryan’s body, take in the blood that seeps from his bashed in skull, paints the floor and throw rug red. The body’s eyes are dull and sightless, but Ray gets lost in them anyways. Ray drops to his knees by the body, and he sees tears drip onto Ray’s cheeks as Ray combs hair back out of its limp face, recoiling when he feels warmth. Ray pulls his hands away, and Ryan doesn’t quite know what Ray is feeling as he stares at the blood on his fingers. Ray brushes his fingers down its face, closing the body’s eyes, and Ryan watches as his form wavers. Did Ray not know? Did he honestly think that Ryan was dead?

“Now we aren’t enemies anymore.” Ray mutters, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Ryan’s brow- well, the body’s brow. Ryan can’t feel it, but he wants to. Ryan wants a lot of things, but maybe now, just maybe, they can go back to ignoring each others presence. It was easier back then, before Ray started pursuing Ryan, and before Ryan was foolish enough to allow it, to encourage it, even.

Ryan sighs while he watches Ray walk away from his body, and Ryan rests his hand on his broken head as his body slumps away from the wall. Ryan can see blood splattering the wall and dripping down the body’s neck. “Oh Ray,” Ryan sighs out. “that isn’t how things work around here.”

~*~

Ryan’s head hurts. That’s the first thing he notices when he wakes up. The second thing is that his phone is ringing, and Ryan presses the answer button without looking. Only two people have this number. “Ryan? Oh thank Christ, where are you, asshole? The heat died down fucking yesterday.”

“I got caught up in something.” Ryan says, and his voice is scratchy and wrecked, Ryan gingerly touching the back of his head as he looks at the dried blood on the floor and wall.

“What the fuck does that mean? Were you fucking the life outta some poor person as celebration? Because there was a murder hours after the heist and I’m pretty sure it was you.”

“It wasn’t me, I-.”

“Yeah no, I don’t care.” The voice interrupts, and Ryan winces at the crackle of a bad connection. “Just get back to base, asshole. You have the fucking money.”

“Bye Geoff.” Ryan says, and he sighs as he hangs up. Ryan goes about cleaning his blood off the floor and his brains off the wall, scrubbing methodically as he stares at the ruined rug. Ryan sees his discarded pistol and he picks it up, tucking it away and ignoring the blood on the butt of the gun. Ryan really, really wants to show up in front of Ray, covered in his own blood and wailing, and the hurt from Ray attacking him melts away only for anger to replace it. Ryan can feel his hands shaking, and his head aches as he stands, walking out of the house as he turns his back on what could have been. Ryan finds his bike and kicks it to life, roaring down the road as wind whips past him and yanks at his clothes. Ryan rides hard, rides until the anger in his stomach cools and cracks, and once it does Ryan takes a deep breath. He’s going to fine, just like he always is. One man, one kid years younger than him is not going to get under his skin. Ryan vows it right now.

Ryan is breathing hard when he stops the bike, and he releases his white knuckled grip on the handles as he stows his bike in the garage. Ryan’s stomach is empty, his heart thuds slowly in his chest as he banishes all thoughts of a certain Puerto Rican from his mind. Ryan grabs the bag of cash and heads up to the penthouse in the elevator, staring at his feet the whole way as he waits for the elevator to signal that he’s arrived. Ryan walks into the apartment, looking up at Geoff and Jack as they stand at the island near the kitchen. Both of them reel back in shock, and Jack gags, covering his nose and mouth as he pulls away. Ryan raises an eyebrow just in time for Jack to throw up in the sink, Geoff wrinkling his nose and Ryan’s brow furrowing.

“What the fuck, dude?” Geoff says, and Ryan doesn’t understand why there’s anger in his voice.

“Uh, I’m home? I brought the cash?” Ryan holds the bag up, tossing it over to Geoff without taking a step forward. Jack is rinsing his mouth out, and Ryan really doesn’t understand what just happened. “Is there something on my face?”

“Blood. There are what look like-” Geoff gags. “pieces of your brain on your jacket.”

“Oh. Is that all?” Ryan asks, and he had forgotten the extent of his injuries, but he remembers his head was smashed in, blood and brain on the wall and on him.

“You smell like death. What happened to you?” Jack speaks up, eyes watering from the scent, and he nearly goes back to the sink. Geoff looks about ready to join him.

Ryan looks faintly amused. “You guys should be used to the smell of death and the sight of brains.” He says instead, and both shake their head. Ryan’s smirk drops when he sees that they’re actually being serious, and he lifts a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “There was an altercation with someone. They hit me, then choked me, and then they smashed my head against the wall until my head cracked open.”

“Jesus _Christ_ Ryan!” Jack says, and Geoff is flabbergasted, trying to think of what he could say, what he could do. Ryan has always been sensitive, and while Geoff and Jack can die and ‘respawn’ like Ryan, Ryan retains the pain and bruises from his injuries. Ryan looks haggard, to say the least, and Geoff’s eyes narrow.

“Where’s your mask?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, I think I left it at the safehouse. I have others.”

“Go get your fucking mask, dude, you’ll just whine about it later.” Ryan shakes his head at Geoff automatically, and it sends pain shooting through his neck and head. Ryan flinches, and Jack is quick to rush forward, taking Ryan’s hand.

“Come on, you need a shower and some pain meds.” Ryan lets Jack lead him out of the room, and he doesn’t object when Jack helps him get his clothes off. His neck is too stiff to move much and his head is incredibly tender, so after Ryan has showered and rinsed the blood from his hair he sits in the bathtub, Jack kneeling behind to gently soap through Ryan’s hair while looking over the back of Ryan’s head to make sure that he’s alright. Jack works in silence, and Ryan nearly falls asleep from the soothing feeling of Jack’s nails scratching against his scalp when Jack speaks. “Who did it?”

“Does it matter?” Ryan mumbles, and he would prefer not to think about what happened. He wants to move on.

“Well, Geoff doesn’t let someone go after one of his own. You’re one of the Gents, dude we’re gonna kill the fucker that killed you.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Ryan mutters under his breath, but Jack’s hands still and he rinses his hands off as he moves to look at Ryan carefully. Ryan’s eyes are downcast, avoiding Jack’s gaze, and he feels so exposed without his mask.

“It was one of the Lads.” Jack says, and Ryan’s stomach sinks. He’s too easy to read right now. Jack’s frustrated sigh gets Ryan to look up, and Ryan sees anger and pity swimming in the depths of Jack’s eyes. “How did they get the drop on you?” Jack demands, and Ryan shifts, the water in the tub sloshing around with his movement.

“He was at the safehouse. I was going to shoot him, but I-” Ryan stops, and he doesn’t want Jack to know about his feelings, and he tries to think of some lie as he pretends to choke on the memory of what happened. Jack shushes him, tells him to take his time, and Ryan is grateful for the opportunity to think. “He rushed me before I even had the safety off, and he used my own gun to hit me in the face. I was too disoriented to do anything and before I knew it his hands were around my throat and I couldn’t breathe.” The lie spills from his lips, and his voice is shaking from the phantom feeling of thumbs digging into his windpipe.

“Which one?” Jack asks, and Ryan shrugs, not knowing the others names. He never paid attention to who was who, and he only knows Ray’s name because Ray had been around so often. “Well, if it had been someone normal they would be dead, but the most we can do with the Lads is decimate their corpses so it takes them longer to come back.”

Ryan’s face remains blank when he hears Jack’s statement, and he’s silent the rest of the night. Ryan puts on a white skull mask, refuses to move from the couch, and after a while he hears Geoff sigh and leave. Ryan is staring out the window when something smacks into the side of his head, and he looks to see his regular mask on the arm of the couch, worn and well past needing to be replaced. Ryan gets up to go put it in his room. Ryan sits on the couch for four days without eating and only moving to go to the bathroom per Jack’s request every few hours. Ryan is sufficiently healed and the bruises on his neck are long since faded by the time he rouses again. Ryan heals remarkably well, and it’s a trait that Geoff and Jack have always been jealous of, but in order to heal the way he does Ryan has to go into shock. Ryan only comes out of it once he’s healed, and Jack is shocked to see Ryan up and about so soon. Ryan is still wearing the white skull mask, and Jack has never seen Ryan go so long without putting on his black one.

Ryan walks to his room, takes a scalding shower so that he can work feeling back into his sleepy limbs, and then he starts preparing. Ryan tucks his knives into their holsters and he tucks his pistol away as an afterthought. Ryan shrugs into his leather jacket and wanders out of the room, waving at Jack as they pass each other in the hallway.

“Ryan, are you alright?” Jack catches Ryan’s arm, forces him to stop as Ryan stares straight ahead and nods jerkily. Jack knows what is going to happen, and he squeezes Ryan’s arm lightly. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ryan.”

“I won’t.” Ryan intones, voice monotone as he lays his hand over Jack’s. “I know what I’m doing.”

Ryan shrugs Jack’s grip off and heads out the door, riding the elevator down to the garage and hopping into his BF Injection, a car that he rarely ever uses. Ryan pulls out onto the streets, driving like any normal citizen would. Ryan follows all the traffic laws and makes sure that no one is suspicious when he pulls up on a quaint two story house. Ryan can see the gleam of a camera lens, but he just calmly honks his horn as if he were here to pick one of them up. Ryan has his visor moved next to his head to block the coming sun and keep the camera from fully seeing his face, and it isn’t long before he sees the curtains rustle and curious green eyes look out. Ryan waves, and the man waves back, motioning for him to go around back. Ryan smirks and gets out of the passenger side, moving a little too quick for the front door camera to catch. Ryan pops the latch on the gate and lets it swing open, Ryan striding through with his hands in his pockets. Ryan walks through the backyard, and there’s a couple of broken appliances thrown about the yard near a pool, one of those bladder ones with the inflatable rings. It looks surprisingly well kept.

Ryan walks up to the back door and knocks, standing patiently while he ignores the whir of the camera that zooms towards him. Ryan just steps into its blind spot and waits for the door to be opened. A man with curly hair opens the door, grinning like Ryan is who he expected, and in the split second where he registers that Ryan is in fact, not someone that he knows, Ryan has a knife out and has sunk it neatly between the man’s fourth and fifth rib. The man jerks, and Ryan lets his body drop as Ryan steps over it and goes into the house. Ryan whistles a merry little tune, and he can feel the cold breeze of a spirit angrily trying to grab at him, but Ryan just waves his hand and dissipates half of it. None of them can do shit while they’re dead. Ryan stops when he hears a door slam, and he heads in that direction. The layout of the house is pretty simple, and Ryan ascends the staircase towards muffled panting.

“Oh Laaaaad, why don’t you come out to play?” Ryan calls in a singsong voice, holding his knife in one hand as he sneaks towards the door. Ryan makes like he’s passing the door, letting his footsteps clomp on the floor as he passes, and Ryan silently slips into the next room. Ryan waits patiently, and sure enough, he hears the door open and the click of a gun, but Ryan isn’t worried. Ryan waits as the man walks slowly, and he looks into the room that Ryan is lurking in, but Ryan knows how to hide, and the man sees nothing as he takes a couple of steps further into the room. Ryan bides his time, and before the other man can register the movement, Ryan has him gagging on his own blood as Ryan slits his throat. The warm spray of his blood splatters over Ryan’s front, and Ryan watches the way it runs down a tan neck as Ryan drops the man and he goes crashing to the ground. Ryan feels two spirits mingling now, trying to tug at his clothes, but Ryan is long past caring as he prowls through the house. Ryan can feel the spirits getting more agitated the closer he gets to the basement, and he opens the door slowly.

He flicks the light on and descends, footsteps echoing off of the stairs and into the basement below. It’s a finished basement, and really, it looks like someone could live down here without needing anything. There’s a kitchenette in one corner, and Ryan can only guess there’s a bedroom and a bathroom through the doors. Ryan treads carefully, and there’s the lingering scent of marijuana in the air, but when Ryan opens the door to the bedroom the air inside is clean. The light is on, and Ryan’s target is waiting for him, swinging a frying pan at Ryan’s head. Ryan ducks and it clangs off the doorframe, Ryan wrestling it from Ray’s grip as Ryan grabs Ray’s collar and drags him kicking from the room. Ryan throws him back against one of the walls adjacent to the TV and Ray slides down, slumping. Ryan thinks the position is oddly ironic for the situation that they’re in right now.

Ryan starts laughing, a small chuckle at first that slowly grows into something more, into maniacal laughter as Ray stares up at him, trying to catch his breath. Ryan throws his arms out wide, presenting himself for Ray’s viewing pleasure. “Well, Ray? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Ryan-” Ryan starts cackling again, low and grating, and Ray winces at the sound.

“Aren’t I giving you what you want?” Ryan asks between laughs, and Ray is silent in Ryan’s bubble of madness. The spirits of the two others have dissipated, and Ryan knows that they’ll be back within a few minutes, so he has to make this quick. “We’re enemies, right Ray? We’re supposed to kill each other with no thought?”

“You’re thinking awful hard about it.” Ray says defiantly, and Ryan’s eyes are slightly crazed.

“What else am I to think about? The fact that my brains coated the wall of that safehouse for a day while you pretended your feelings were more justified than mine?” Ryan’s eyes narrow, and his arms lower slowly as he stalks over, grabbing Ray’s collar again and hoisting him up. Ryan presses the tip of the blade lightly against Ray’s stomach, and he can feel Ray’s hands tremble as he grabs at Ryan’s wrist to try and keep the knife away.

“I was upset, and maybe killing you was a little harsh but you came back didn’t you?” Ray says, and Ryan’s grip on his collar tightens as Ryan forces the knife closer, watching the way Ray’s lip twitches when the blade nicks his skin.

“But you didn’t know that I would. You thought you were the only one with a special trick up his sleeve. You and your Lads.”

“Why did you come here then? What good would killing me do?” Ray’s hands reach up, pushing Ryan’s mask up and over his head, letting it drop to the ground. The knife presses in, and Ray can feel the beginnings of a cut, but Ray forces Ryan’s hand back a little more. Just enough to ensure himself a few more words. “Why are you here, Ryan?”

“To do this.” Ryan hisses, surging forward to capture Ray’s lips in a bruising kiss as he sinks the blade in deep. Ray’s eyelids flutter from the kiss, and he moans low in pain as Ryan digs the knife in deeper and twists gruesomely. Ryan pulls away as blood stains his hands, and Ray’s hands go to cover the stomach wound as Ryan lets him crumple to the ground.

“Fuck…” Ray wheezes out, watching as Ryan reaches with bloodstained hands to grab his mask and slip it back on. Ray’s vision is swimming as pain floods through him, but Ryan doesn’t seem to care.

“If I were a stronger man I would have killed you immediately.” Ryan says, and he tosses his knife at Ray’s feet. “Finish yourself off, your death isn’t worth it.”

“So much for revenge sex.” Ray croaks out, and Ryan’s laugh is humorless.

“Not this time.” Ryan turns his back on Ray, walking towards the stairs, and Ryan feels white hot pain burst against his back. Ryan goes staggering, hand reaching back, prodding at the hilt of a knife that sticks out of his back. Ryan hisses as he pulls it out, turning to look at Ray as he smirks weakly.

“A scar to remember me by.” Ray mutters before his eyelids slip shut and his head droops forward. Ryan watches Ray’s body go limp, stares at the red stain blossoming over Ray’s shirt, and for the first time he feels sick to his stomach. Ryan stumbles up the stairs clutching his knife, and Ryan is glad that Ray missed his spine, because had he been paralyzed, he wouldn’t have made it out of the house at all. Ryan stumbles over the body in the doorway of the back door, tumbling down the stairs with a cry of pain, and Ryan’s breath is knocked from his chest as his hand goes back to gingerly press against the heavily bleeding wound on his back. Ryan lays on the concrete of the walkway for a few seconds more before he regains his breath and he struggles to his feet. Ryan ambles to his car, and sitting down sends pain jittering along his spine and hips, but he just starts the car and backs out just as a man comes stumbling. Ryan pays him no mind, even when he sees the glint of a gun barrel. Ryan just drives back to the apartment, struggling to get out of the car as his legs refuse to move. Ryan hears the elevator ding and he feels hands pulling him from the car and Ryan clutches desperately at suit lapels.

“Ryan, Jesus H Christ, how many times are you going to come home covered in blood this week?” Ryan can’t come up with an answer, and Geoff wraps an arm around his waist that has Ryan spasming and his legs turning to jello. Geoff’s arm moves when he feels blood, and he lays Ryan on the floor of the garage, yanking his phone out and sending a text to Jack. Before Ryan can protest Geoff is shoving Ryan’s jacket out of the way, examining the wound on his back, and Geoff sighs. “What did you do while you were out?”

“T-ook care of business.” Ryan chokes out, breathing raggedly as Geoff yanks his handkerchief out and presses it to the wound on Ryan’s back.

“What does that even-” Geoff is interrupted when Ryan spasms again, and Jack’s hands cover Geoff’s, pressing harder to staunch the bleeding.

“Idiot. Why didn’t you let us come along? How stupid can you be, going after the Lads alone?”

“You went after the Lads?!” Geoff shouts in outrage, and pain rips through him when Geoff digs his finger in too close to the wound. “What the fuck, Ryan, we’re supposed to be a crew, not a madman and two criminals.”

“Killed them.” Ryan mumbles, cheek pressing against the concrete of the garage floor. There are two twin intakes of breath, and Ryan can feel the burn of antiseptic as blood is wiped from his skin and his shirt is moved out of the way. Ryan can’t believe that they’re going to stitch him up right here.

“You killed all three of them and the only wound you got was this?” Geoff says incredulously, and Ryan nods. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Acting.” Ryan mumbles, and Geoff snorts, letting Jack do the stitches as Ryan grits his teeth and stays as still as possible.

“You would think that Michael would have given you a problem, at least.”

“Who?” Ryan asks, and Geoff swallows like he’s guilty, like he shouldn’t know that name.

“The one with curly hair. The british one is Gavin, and Ray is the sniper.” Geoff mutters, and Ryan manages to turn his head to look at Geoff. There’s an indescribable look of guilt on Geoff’s face, but Jack is making noises that confirm that he knew their names, so Ryan doesn’t understand Geoff’s guilt.

“Gavin waved for me to go around back and I stabbed Michael in the heart when he opened the door.” Ryan murmurs, and he sees Geoff’s face twitch. “I slit Gavin’s throat next. He didn’t even put up a fight.” Ryan goes silent after that, and Ryan is guided up onto his knees so that Jack can wrap bandages around his torso to keep the gauze in place over the stitches. They help him to his feet, and Ryan shambles over to the elevator while leaning heavily on Geoff.

“What did you do to Ray?” Jack finally asks once they’re safely in the apartment, Ryan pulling his jacket off slowly.

“I found him, stopped him from attacking me, and then I stabbed him in the stomach. Gave him my knife so he could finish himself off. He threw the knife into my back instead before he bled out.”

“You make some stupid decisions. Why didn’t you just finish him off yourself?” Geoff points out, and Ryan gives a halfhearted shrug.

“It wasn’t worth it. He left me with my skull cracked open, so I left him to bleed out alone.”

“Alright big guy, you need to get some sleep, do your thing so that you can heal up. We have a heist in a few days and we need you in top shape.” Geoff claps Ryan on the shoulder, and Ryan stumbles a little bit as he looks back at Geoff quizzically.

“We just did a heist though.” Ryan frowns when Geoff waves the statement off, but he shrugs and heads off to his room. Ryan manages to get his t-shirt and pants off without anyone’s help, and he tugs his mask off, looking at the red droplets that stain the white surface. Ryan tosses it on the ground without bothering to try and clean it off, climbing into bed and laying down on his stomach. Ryan tucks a pillow under his chin and allows himself to let go, for his limbs to slacken and his mind go blank. Ryan slips into the white fog that envelops his brain, and Ryan starts a game of recounting all the times that he’s shot someone. He’s halfway through counting when he feels himself moving, feels hands helping him go to the bathroom before tucking him back to wherever he ended up. Ryan resumes counting, and once he’s done with that he starts counting the sunsets that he’s seen. By the time that Ryan is done with that he’s counted 12,410 sunsets, and the fog is receding.

Ryan sighs, taking a few deep breaths as he listens to his heartbeat in his ears as he slowly sits up. Ryan twists this way and that, but there’s no pain, and Ryan unwraps the bandages from around his torso. Ryan goes to take a scalding hot shower, washing any dried blood from him and enjoying the patter of water on his shoulders as he relaxes in the shower. Ryan starts humming a tune, singing quietly.

_“Suddenly, I'm hit, is this darkness of the dawn? And your friends are gone, and your friends won't come, so show me where you fit, so show me where you fit.”_ Ryan goes back to humming the tune instead of singing the actual lyrics, but he’s still humming when he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Ryan wanders out of his bathroom, yawning and going to his closet to look at what clothes he has that aren’t blood stained or dirty. Ryan snags a pair of dark wash jeans, tossing them onto the bed while rummaging through his shirts. Ryan doesn’t have any of his t-shirts washed, and all he’s left with are button up shirts. Ryan sighs and grabs a plain black one, tossing that with the jeans as he pauses. There’s a floor length mirror on the door of the closet, and Ryan lets his towel drop as he twists to look at the scar on his back. It’s brand new, of course, puffy and red, but it’s healed well, and Ryan reaches back to touch it lightly. The skin is sensitive to the touch and he runs light fingers over it, trying to keep his breathing steady when it sends sensations through his back. The feeling isn’t unpleasant, but the memory behind it has his heart rate picking up, his breaths coming faster. He was unhinged then, and he didn’t know what drove him to react that way; he’d been killed by Ray, hell, he’d been killed by all of the Lads numerous times. Ryan doesn’t know what made this last time different.

Ryan closes his closet door, stooping to pick his towel up as he squeezes water out of his hair until it stops dripping down his back. Ryan messes up his hair by scrubbing with his towel, standing in front of his dresser while trying to jimmy his underwear drawer open. It got stuck constantly, and Ryan didn’t know how many times he’d fixed the tracks and sanded the wood so it would slide easier, yet he couldn't get it to open smoothly. He finally manages to yank it open and he grabs a pair of boxer briefs, tugging them on as he elbows the drawer shut. Ryan starts humming again as he shrugs his shirt on, doing the buttons with deft fingers. Ryan slips his pants on and tucks his shirt in as an afterthought, grabbing his belt from where it was thrown on the end of his bed and tugging it through his belt loops. Ryan figures that since he’s already going semi nice that why the hell not, and he grabs a nice gold tie, going through the motions of tying a half windsor. Ryan is rolling his sleeves up when he hears a knock on the door, and he pads over, opening it just as Jack raises his fist to knock again.

“Oh, you’re up, good. Umm..” Jack pauses, and Ryan raises an eyebrow at the way Jack’s eyes roam up and down the length of Ryan’s body in puzzlement. “Is there some event I’m not aware of?”

“No?” Ryan answers, frowning as he waves Jack into the room while he goes to comb through his hair before raking it back into a messy bun. “Why?”

“You’re dressed up.” Jack says, and Ryan looks down at his outfit. Ryan didn’t really count this as dressing up, but he can see where the confusion might lie. Ryan is usually only in t-shirts and his leather jacket, and he can’t remember the last time he let his laundry pile up to the point of having to revert back to button ups.

Ryan shrugs and does his belt up after noticing he didn’t actually fasten it, and he gestures to the hamper filled with laundry. “It’s laundry day.”

“It’s heist day, too.” Jack says, and Ryan pauses in his pursuit to find a matching pair of socks, listening to Jack sitting down on the end of his bed.

“What are we even doing? Aren’t we supposed to lay low for a month or so, give the cops time to calm down?”

“We’re gonna rob a clothing store.” Ryan turns, his frown growing larger, and Jack just shrugs.

“Like, just a clothing store? I don’t know how much money we’ll pull in from a clothing store.”

“I think this is Geoff’s way of trying to get you new clothes.”

Ryan looks back at Jack incredulously, and then he starts laughing. Ryan doubles over with the force of his laughter, resting his forehead against his dresser as he gasps in breaths of air between bouts of laughter. Ryan stands up once he’s done laughing, wiping a tear from his eyes as he shakes his head. “Have him call the heist off, I’ll go shopping today while I do laundry.”

“Well that makes things easier for us, then.” Jack hauls himself up off of Ryan’s bed, and Ryan follows him to the door, grabbing his boots on the way out. “If you ask I’m sure Geoff would give you cash to go shopping.”

“Don’t need it.” Ryan mumbles, grabbing his hamper as he wanders out of his room. Geoff is sprawled on the couch nursing a cup of coffee while watching some show on TV, but Ryan pays it no mind as he transfers all of his laundry into an easier to carry laundry basket that he snagged from Geoff’s room.

“Going out, buddy? We got that heist today still.”

“Yeah, I’m going clothes shopping.” Geoff looks away from the TV at that, and he looks slightly disappointed that Ryan is obviously saying they aren’t going to rob the clothing store, but Ryan just stares back at him until Geoff instead focuses on his coffee. Ryan puts his boots on and takes the rolls of quarters Jack gives him, setting them in his basket. He totes his laundry off to the elevator after making sure he has everything he needs, and he hoists the basket into the back seat of his SUV, closing the door before heading around to pull himself up into the drivers seat. Ryan turns on the radio and bops along to whatever is on the radio, humming and tapping the steering wheel. Ryan drives through Los Santos, relaxing behind the wheel as he heads for the shopping strip near the middle of town. Ryan feels a little odd going around in public like a normal human being and not the scary man hiding behind a mask, but he doesn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing him. No one knows his face, he’s made sure of that, so today he isn’t the Vagabond, or the Mad King. He’s just Ryan Haywood, average citizen who needs new clothes and desperately needs to do his own laundry.

Ryan pulls up and parallel parks in front of Sub Urban, turning the car off as he walks inside swinging his keys. Ryan smiles pleasantly at the woman behind the desk and starts shopping, rifling through t-shirt after t-shirt while he finds sizes in anything that catches his eye. Ryan finds a few pairs of jeans and a new pair of boots, and he spends well over 600 dollars in that store just buying himself clothes. Ryan thinks that he’s having a bit of a ‘me’ day, so on his way to the laundromats he grabs an ice cream cone to indulge himself. Ryan also stops by the dollar store to buy detergent after realizing he left without any, and he picks one that’s supposed to smell like flowers. Ryan likes the smell of flowers more than a regular detergent smell. Ryan laughs at the absurdity of him ever having a normal day, but he quite enjoys not having Geoff or Jack around reminding him not to do this, commanding him to do that. He loves his fellow Gents, sure, but they can be bossy sometimes.

Ryan grabs his laundry from the back, whistling as he makes his way into the laundromat and for one of the washers furthest from the door. Ryan sets himself up there, throwing in his clothes and measuring out the right amount of detergent before he lets it run. Ryan pulls his phone out, leaning against the washer instead of claiming one of the many seats, and he hears someone open the washer next to his, and he sighs. He chose this one so that others wouldn’t get near, but some people don’t know the common courtesy of a laundromat. Ryan shifts to the side a little bit when he feels something bump his arm, and he mumbles an “Excuse me.” before making as if to actually go sit down.

“What’s the rush, stranger?” Ryan’s eyes go wide, and he looks up from his phone, mouth opening to say something, anything, but he finds that his mouth is dry and he doesn’t actually know what to say. Ray looks a little pale, and his hand is resting over his stomach, but he looks a whole lot better than he did dead on the floor a few days ago.

“Ray-”

“Enjoying a day out?” Ray says, and his voice is casual, light, as if nothing ever happened, and Ryan doesn’t know what the fuck happened to being enemies. Were they ever really enemies? Ryan still can’t find any words, can’t think of how he could respond to that, and Ray laughs softly while tapping his chin, Ryan’s mouth closing with the faint clack of teeth coming together. “A simple yes is all you need to say, Ryan.”

“What are you doing here?” Ryan says instead, body rigid with shock, and Ray rolls his eyes while going up on his tiptoes. Ryan leans blindly into Ray, connects their lips in a soft kiss, and before Ryan registers what just happened Ray is back to loading his laundry into the machine next to Ryan’s. Ryan isn’t sure what the fuck his life has come to, but this, casual kissing after they’ve both murdered each other in cold blood? This is what Ryan would classify as crazy.

“Doing laundry. Oh, hey, do you have quarters? I totally forgot my own.” Ryan is mute with shock as he hands over a roll he knows he won't use, and Ray tucks the quarters into the slots and sets the machine to run, snagging Ryan’s detergent at the last minute. Ryan can’t bring himself to be mad. At least Ray has dryer sheets, and Ryan will probably end up taking one of those, seeing as he didn’t pick any up when he got detergent. “Thanks buddy.” Ray says after he closes the lid and hops up to sit on the machine, ankles crossed as he folds his hands in his lap.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Ryan mumbles under his breath, and Ray laughs, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, we’re doing laundry. This is a Laundromat, remember?” Ray’s voice is teasing, and it’s more like how he normally acts. Ryan shakes his head and blinks away his confusion, scrubbing a hand across his face while peeking at Ray from the corner of his eye.

“I know that much, Ray. I’m talking about this.” Ryan gestures between them, the easy way that Ray leans towards Ryan, body slumped and a small smirk on his face. “You kissing me, acting like I didn’t-”

“Eh, you’re all about that ‘eye for an eye’ thing, right? I don’t really care. What’s done is done, no need to trip dicks over it.” Ray gives a halfhearted shrug, and Ryan gapes at him. Ray’s smirk grows, and he closes Ryan’s mouth for him before he looks Ryan over, eyes traveling down Ryan’s body slowly. Ryan feels oddly exposed with Ray looking at him like he could eat Ryan up, and Ryan can feel a shiver go down his spine as Ray finally meets his eyes. “Did you get all dressed up just for me?” Ray says coyly, batting his eyelashes, and Ryan laughs in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Is this really happening, or is this some fucked up fever dream?” Ray’s expression scrunches for a moment, but then he chuckles and pinches Ryan’s arm. Ryan yelps and rubs at the spot, frowning at Ray while Ray just grins knowingly.

“Not a dream, Rye, this is all real.” Ryan is struck silent when it finally sinks in that yes, this is happening, and yes, they seem to be doing just fine.

“Uh, okay.”

“Okay?” Ray asks, and Ryan can’t bring himself to look at the way Ray’s expression looks entirely too hopeful. Ryan’s heart thuds in his chest, and he looks around to make sure there’s no one that he knows before he turns, cupping Ray’s cheek with a gentle hand. Ryan presses a hesitant kiss to Ray’s lips, and his heart is thundering a mile a minute in his ears and there’s a faint rushing sound that he can hear. Ryan feels torn between knowing that they shouldn’t do this and knowing that he doesn’t care. Ray’s lips are warm and surprisingly smooth, and Ryan feels a little bad because his lips are chapped and it must not be a pleasant feeling. Ray doesn’t seem to care, though, if the way he sighs and leans closer is any indication. Ryan pulls back from the kiss when he hears someone clear their throat, and his cheeks are stained a light pink.

“Yeah, uh, I mean, I-” Ryan fumbles over his words, but Ray’s giggle silences him as Ray rolls his eyes with an entirely too fond smile on his face.

“Ryan, chill. We’re here to do laundry, right?”

“Right.” Ryan says, and their conversation lulls as they wait for their respective loads of laundry to finish washing. Ryan transfers his laundry over to a dryer minutes before Ray does, but he waits until Ray is ready to start his. Ryan snags one of Ray’s dryer sheets, and when Ray protests Ryan reminds him that Ray’s clothes are only clean because Ray used his quarters and his detergent. Ray doesn’t protest after that. Ryan folds and puts his laundry into his laundry basket when he’s done, no matter how much Ray teases him about the fact that “it’s easier just to dump it in, c’mon Rye there are better things to do.”

Despite Ray trying to hurry Ryan up, Ryan folds his laundry and then folds Ray’s too, and he gathers up his detergent and his remaining rolls of quarters before he finally moves towards the door. Ray is all too eager to follow behind, and Ryan loads his laundry up into his SUV before he turns to see that Ray has a creek brown Panto, with what appears to be luggage on the top. Ryan frowns when he sees the luggage, and Ray raises an eyebrow. “What’s with the look?”

“Are you going somewhere?” Ray looks at the luggage before he laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, they’re for decoration. Michael and Gavin strapped them on one day, saying I needed to fuck off.”

“Funny.” Ryan mutters, but he doesn’t exactly laugh, lips quirking up as he closes his back door and watches Ray tuck his own laundry into his car. Ray straightens up with a small grunt, hand going back to his stomach, and Ryan feels a stone drop into his stomach as he sees the flicker of pain the goes across Ray’s face. “Does it… Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” Ray lifts his shirt so that Ryan can see the puffy scar on his stomach. It’s an angry red, and Ryan’s face goes white as he reaches out with shaky hands. Ray lets his shirt fall before Ryan can touch it, and Ryan jerks his hands back as if he’s been burned. “Yours doesn’t?”

“No. I have… I can heal quicker. I go into shock and I just let my body repair itself.”

“Lucky.” Ray breathes, like he actually is envious of what Ryan can do. Ryan knows that he probably is. “I’d kill to have that ability.”

Ryan snorts at the joke, and really, he wouldn’t put it past Ray to kill if he was able to gain the ability that Ryan has. It’s not like Ray hasn’t killed for less. “So uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Be at the top of Mount Chiliad in two hours.” Ray says in reply, and Ray pushes lightly on Ryan’s chest as Ray goes up and gives Ryan a lingering kiss. Ray drives off, and Ryan heads back to the apartment in a daze. Ryan grabs his bags and his basket and somehow manages to get it all inside in one trip, heading past Jack and Geoff sleeping on the couch. Ryan stays as quiet as possible while he puts all his laundry away before sneaking back out, and he takes his SUV again just because he likes how high it is off the ground. Ryan is in no real hurry, and it takes him the two hours that Ray gave him to get to the top, Ryan pulling up to the viewing platform on top of Chiliad. Ryan doesn’t get out quite yet, and he’s just about to when the passenger door opens and Ray slides into the seat, smiling as he rubs his hands together and tugs his beanie lower down to cover his ears. “Took your damn time, didn’t ya?”

“You said I had two hours.” Ryan points out, and Ray snorts, shaking his head. The air in the car is thick with tension, and Ryan once again finds himself lost for words. Ray helps, though, and Ryan finds himself quickly shoving the emergency brake down as Ray climbs out of his seat and into Ryan’s lap. Ryan hears the click of his seatbelt being undone, and he can feel the strap being maneuvered away from his body, but all that Ryan can really focus on are the thighs that tuck up against his hips, shoves between the door and the center console. There are cool hands cupping his neck, guiding Ryan, tilting his head up as Ray presses his lips against Ryan’s, and Ryan’s eyes close automatically. Ryan’s hands rest on Ray’s thighs before sliding to hold his waist and steady him as Ray bites Ryan’s lower lip. Ryan’s lips part, breath hot against Ray’s lips, and their tongues slide in a way that makes Ryan’s fingers twitch.

Ray kisses languidly, like he has all the time in the world to do so. Like this isn’t wrong, what they’re doing. Ryan keeps thinking that word. Wrong. Ryan pulls away from the kiss, opens his mouth to say that they shouldn’t, but a thought plants itself firmly in his head. Since when has anything being done right been fun? Ryan lives a life of wrong, so what if he adds just a little more? Ray looks confused by the way that Ryan pauses, and Ryan can see Ray hesitate, almost rethinking, and Ryan doesn’t give him the chance. Ray wanted this, accepted it long before Ryan did, but Ryan knows it, wants it now. Their second kiss, and subsequently, all of the ones after for at least an hour involve their tongues sliding and rubbing, shorts bursts of panting and breathy noises.

Ryan is hot under the collar and his cheeks are flushed, hair a mess from Ray’s fingers. Ray had let Ryan’s hair down at least half an hour ago, and Ryan can feel Ray’s fingers fisted in his hair, twisting and tugging on the strands. Ryan’s lips find the column of Ray’s neck, teasing with small grazes of his teeth, and Ryan grunts when Ray’s hands press into his shoulders, push him back against the seat. Ryan looks at Ray, and the same thin fingers that were around his neck just over a week ago tug Ryan’s tie loose, throwing it haphazardly into the passenger seat once he gets it off. Now that Ryan isn’t focused on memorizing the way that Ray tastes, the way he works his lips and his tongue in such a lazy but pleasing way, Ryan can feel that Ray is hard, and Ryan snorts. Ray is working on the first button of Ryan’s shirt when he pauses, eyes narrowing at Ryan’s amused smirk. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Ryan says dismissively, but that same smirk is still there, and Ray sits back, hands paused in their quest to get the buttons through the slots. Ray narrows his eyes, and his hands drop slowly.

“This is a joke, isn’t it? You’re leading me on.” Ray says, and Ryan panics, heart sticking in his throat as he chokes on a horrified gasp.

“N-no, fuck Ray that wasn’t why- I didn’t- you really don’t think I’d-” Ryan can’t find the words to say that no, Ryan isn’t leading him on. He would never do that to someone. Ryan might murder people for fun, but he won’t do that to a person, let alone Ray.

“Why were you laughing, then?” Ray’s hands are curled into loose fists, and Ryan leans forward, hand slipping to press up into Ray’s crotch. A small gasps leaves Ray’s lips, honest and raw, and it makes Ryan’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Because you’re so eager.” Ryan says, and Ray scoffs even if his hips push into Ryan’s hand, and Ryan rubs teasingly. Ryan watches Ray bite his lip as his head tips back, and Ryan presses just a little bit harder, and just as ray gets into it, ryan pulls his hand away, Ray pouting and looking at Ryan.

“Don’t be a cocktease, Ryan.” Ray huffs, but Ryan just leans up and captures Ray’s lips in a filthy kiss. Ray’s eyelids flutter and he leans into Ryan, hands coming up to grasp fists of Ryan’s hair.

“There’s more room in the back of my car. I do happen to have a mattress back there, you know.” Ray’s pupils are blown wide in lust, but he pauses, giggling.

“A mattress?”

“This is my roadtrip car.” Ryan defends, but Ray just giggles again and clambers from Ryan’s lap. Ray climbs over all the seats, and true to Ryan’s word, there’s a mattress, complete with sheets and a few plush pillows. Ray runs his hands over the blankets before he flops down, scooting to lay comfortably in the middle of the mattress. Ray would think that the mattress would be higher up towards the ceiling, but where there is supposed to be another row of seats is where the mattress sits, and Ray finds he likes it a lot in here. Ray can hear Ryan’s soft breathing, but Ray just undoes the fly of his jeans, getting comfortable. Ray waits a few moments, and when Ryan doesn’t come back to sit with him, he figures that he’s busy doing something. Ray can hear Ryan shuffling around, digging around up front, but Ray is impatient. Ray’s hands slip under his waistband, and Ray bites his lips to keep back noises as he strokes himself. Ray pushes his underwear and pants low on his hips, freeing his cock, and he quickly brings his hand up, licking a wet stripe across his palm before he goes back to stroking himself.

Ray reaches up with his free hand, grabbing at the pillow as he moans, loud and purposely more riled up than he actually is. Ryan chokes on a breath when he hears it, and he’s quick to hurry out of the front seat. Ryan opens the back hatch and climbs in, quickly closing the door behind him, and he loses his breath completely when he sees Ray laid back among the blankets and pillows, stroking himself while his other hand clutches at a pillow. Ryan squirts a little lube into his palm, and he was looking for it for way too long, obviously, seeing as Ray started without him. Ryan crowds between Ray’s legs, Batting Ray’s hand away despite his whine. Ryan wraps his hand around Ray and strokes, twisting his wrist at the top. The gasps that leaves Ray’s lips when Ryan’s hand glides over his length is music to Ryan’s ears, and Ryan grins. Ray’s eyes are nearly black when he opens them to look at Ryan, and his grin is crooked, excited.

“Think about me a lot when you’re alone?” He teases, eyes twinkling.

“More than you can guess.” Is Ryan’s short reply before Ryan swallows a moan, kissing Ray hungrily.

~*~

Their first time is messy and full of accidental miscommunication, but Ray is grinning when they finally settle down. Ray states that Ryan is a good fuck, and then they both curl up in Ryan’s car to sleep. Ryan wakes up to Ray snoring softly with his head tucked under Ryan’s chin, hair tickling at his bare skin as Ray shivers in the early morning cold of the mountain. Ryan drives them down the mountain once the sun has risen and Ray has gotten himself dressed, and he drops Ray off in front of his house, Ray stealing a kiss and a promise of meeting again soon.

The second and third time they have sex is in a motel miles from the bustle of downtown Los Santos. Ray wants to get away and Ryan is all too happy to drive them, smiling and laughing when Ray bops along to whatever music is playing on the radio.

Their favorite place to meet, though, is atop Mount Chiliad, in the back of Ryan’s SUV while they’re tangled in each other, panting and breathing in each other, memorizing and relearning each others bodies. Ryan makes sure he keeps condoms and lube stocked, because for as much as Ray pretends that he’s fine doing whatever, Ryan can see that the mention of going raw makes Ray nervous. Ryan never pressures Ray, just strokes his hair while rolling a condom on.

Ryan is on the way up the mountain to meet Ray, and he’s whistling. He doesn’t have his SUV today, figures they can go back to his actual apartment, not the crew one, to play games before they do anything else. They spend equal amounts of time fucking or just hanging out, and Ryan knows there’s a reason he liked Ray from the beginning. They like a lot of the same things, can swap stories about their respective crew mates and not feel guilty about talking. Ryan’s long since stopped trying to distance himself a little bit, because their crews may be fighting, but Ryan still at least pretends to go after Ray when they get into a firefight. Ryan pulls up to the viewing platform just like he always does, and he doesn’t see Ray around yet. Ryan hops out of his car and tucks his hands into his pockets; his mask is on today, and Ryan’s fingers twitch whenever he thinks someone is watching him, but this high up on the mountain the only person around is the occasional hiker.

Ryan goes to stands up on the platform, looking down the side of the mountain and out over the city. It’s a pretty sight, and the sun high over Los Santos beats down on Ryan’s back, but winter is rapidly approaching and it’s more of a dry warmth than a heat. Soon Ray and him won’t be able to meet on the mountain top, and Ryan doesn’t know where they’ll meet then. Ryan hears footsteps and he begins to turn, Ray’s name on his lips, and he feels something strike the back of his head. As quickly as Ryan was ready to greet Ray, his vision goes black and he crumples to the ground.

Ryan wakes up with a pounding headache and no recollection of where he is or what happened. Ryan groans, moving to sit up only to realize that he’s chained by his wrists and on his knees, and Ryan’s shoulders ache. “Hello?” Ryan rasps, looking around and panicking when he realizes that his mask is gone. Ryan tugs on his bindings, but the chains hold fast, and Ryan can’t get out of them, no matter how much he struggles. Ryan hears footsteps just as the chains pull tight, force Ryan’s arms down toward the ground, and Ryan’s chest is bared outwards. His back arches uncomfortably, and he looks around, forcing himself to remain calm when he sees curly hair and a pretty pair of lips.

“Michael.” Ryan realizes, and the man jolts when his name is said, but then his expression hardens.

“Sup fucker? I’ve been trailing you for a goddamn day now, you barely ever leave the house.”

“What do you want?” Ryan demands, and Michael clicks his tongue disapprovingly. Ryan doesn’t flinch when he hears the crack of the whip, and his eyes move towards Gavin, tracing over where his blade cut not even three months ago. Had it really been that long since Ryan had actively tried to murder any of the Lads? Sure he shot them when he needed to, and he didn’t particularly care for them, but they were Ray’s friends, and Ray is his.. Whatever they are. “Gavin, always a pleasure.”

Ryan inclines his head, and he can see Gavin’s grip tighten on the hilt of the whip. Michael raises a hand and Gavin’s anger cools, stepping back until Ryan can’t see him in the shadows of the room. “So, what are you old geezers doing, huh? Certainly not having sex, I haven’t seen any viagra arrive at your house.”

“Been watching us? Or just Geoff?” Ryan replies easily, and he sees Michael’s cheeks flush briefly before he shakes his head and snorts.

“Of course we’ve been watching. You’ve all gone quiet, and when someone goes quiet, they’re planning.”

“We’re planning a garden, but we need to talk to the landlord. He doesn’t want it up on his roof.” Ryan says easily, and he adds a little bit of shame to the admission. “We’re going to be plant parents.”

Michael snorts again. “What kind of flowers?”

“Roses,” Ryan blurts without thinking, and he continues the train of thought smoothly. “along the edges to keep prying eyes out. Daffodils and petunias too, maybe some tulips.”

Michael looks… Shocked, to say the least. Then his eyes narrow. “Where are you getting the flowers from?”

“I don’t know. Jack is in charge of buying them, I’m just there for the grunt work. planting and weeding and such.”

“Bullshit.” Ryan raises an eyebrow at Michael, trying his best to look relaxed.

“Geoff’s allergic to daffodils.”

“And how would you know that?” Ryan asks, a new edge to his voice.

“I sent him some in the mail and he died choking for air. I watches him try and find the EpiPen that I took. his face was all red and he was clawing at his neck the whole time until he died.” Michael sounds smug, and Ryan’s heart sinks. He can’t go back from that, and he didn’t know that Michael had ever sent Geoff flowers.

“Why were you sending flowers? Got a crush, Michael?”

“Umm, to kill him, duh? Who could find that old cock attractive?” Ryan can see in the brief way that Michael shifts that he’s lying, and Ryan knows all of their tells by now. Ray doesn’t hold anything back. “What are you really doing?”

“Touching myself mostly.” Ryan jerks all of a sudden, gritting his teeth and holding back a cry of pain when his chest goes numb before pain slices across his chest. Ryan jerks when there’s another lash, and Ryan feels warm blood dripping down his chest and stomach. Ryan holds back tears and a whimper, and he just wants the burning pain to go away, to leave him alone. Another trail of agony, red hot and scorching slices over his stomach, and Ryan jerks, actually crying out.

“What are you doing, Ryan? Tell me.” Michael demands, and Ryan laughs. He laughs through his pain, and delirium grips his heart, squeezes and makes Ryan’s chest tight. Ryan cackles, head thrown back as Ryan laughs and laughs, tells the heavens of his amusement, and Ryan only stops when he can’t breathe, and a jarring ache settles in his throat as he coughs and chokes on air. Ryan faintly realizes that Michael kicked him in the throat, and Ryan gasps for air.

“Go to hell.” Ryan gasps out, going limp even as the whip cracks down on him again. Ryan greedily recedes into the white fog, floating amongst the numbness of the wispy substance. Ryan settles easily, starts creating world after world in his head, fantastic lands and stories ripe with the promise of time well spent. Ryan goes exploring in the first one, and he finds himself in fields of tall grass, the sun beating down on his skin, and he’s back on his farm in Georgia, his dad on the tractor in the field over while Ryan climbs onto the hay bales that they’ve made into a makeshift fort. Ryan looks out over their fields, watching the wheat around him being harvested to be made into all kinds foodstuff.

Ryan had always liked his farm. He missed it most days, and if he could be in Geoff’s crew while living on a farm, he would. Ryan likes being surrounded for acres by the crops that he tends to, but he left that life long ago for one filled with city streets and a gun in his hand. Well, this time the gun is meant for murder, and not to scare off the wild foxes that tried to get into the chicken coop. Ryan looks up at the tall expanse of hay that leads up high into the clouds, and he begins his ascent. Ryan curses when hay is shoved up under his nails, but he pays it now mind, continuing to climb until he can pull himself over the edge, resting on top of the pile.

Ryan stands on top, grinning, and he breathes in the warm scent before he closes his eyes and leaps, whooping as air rushes past him and he falls to the ground. Ryan laughs and smiles all the way down, staring at the sky above him before his eyes slip closed and he sighs happily.

Ryan is jolted back into the real world just as his back collides with the ground, and Ryan blinks blearily, head swimming. Ryan sees the glint of a gun just as the shot rings out through the room, and Ryan fully expects the bullet to go through his head, but he feels blood splatter over him, and he hears another shot before everything goes silent. Ryan feels his cuffs being undone, and Ryan slumps, feeling gross and tired. Ryan’s upper arm aches, and when Ryan looks past the blood he sees the word GENT scarred into his skin. Ryan doesn’t know why he hates the way it looks so much. Ryan feels hands cup his cheeks, and Ryan flinches, only to look into familiar, dark eyes behind thick rimmed glasses.

“C’mon Rye, come back, I’m right here.”

“I have to be dead for real this time. There is no way you’re not an angel.” Ryan mutters, and his lips curve in a weak smile as Ray laughs and kisses him.

“Get up, asshole, Geoff and Jack are here to pick you up.”

“Wait, they’re here?” Ryan asks as he wobbles to his feet, and for the first time he notices that Michael must have taken his boots. Thief. Ryan can’t bring himself to care too much, not when he sees Michael and Gavin on the floor, a neat shot between their eyes.

“Yeah, I called them after I found out Michael was torturing you.”

“You care?” Ryan asks, and Ray gives him a scathing look. Ryan flinches back, but Ray keeps a hold of Ryan’s hand.

“Of course I do, asshole. I’m not sleeping with you because it’s fantastic sex, even though it is. We are dating, right?” Ray asks, and Ryan sees insecurity hidden behind Ray’s anger. Ryan is momentarily blinded by sunlight when he walks out, and when he sees his crew, he smiles. His smile grows larger, though, when he looks at Ray, and he gathers Ray in his arms. Ryan kisses Ray right in front of the others, even though he’s covered in blood and Ray was previously clean.

“Yes, we are.” Ryan murmurs against Ray’s lips, and he hears a groan from Geoff.

“Let’s go, asshole, quit sucking face.”

“It was one kiss.” Ryan protests, and Ray steals another.

“Two. Now go on, I have some explaining to do once Michael and Gavin wake up.”

“Be safe, okay?” Ryan says as they part, and Ray laughs.

“Or what, you’ll bring me back to life and then kill me again?” Ray teases, and Ryan laughs.

“I’ll keep you alive.” Ray gasps in mock horror, and it makes Ryan feel a little bit better about their relationship. For whatever shit they’re going to get from their respective crews, they have each other. Ryan thinks that sounds cheesy, but true. Ryan is loaded into Geoff’s car, and it isn’t until they’re pulling away that Jack speaks up.

“We knew, but we just pretended because you pretended.”

“How?”

“Well don’t call his name while you jerk it in the shower for one.” Geoff says, and he looks at ryan through the rearview mirror to see Ryan’s cheeks flushed. “And we saw you around town with him. You do your job, so I don’t care if you bangour enemy or not.”

“Let’s hope Michael is as lenient as you are.” Ryan mutters, and Geoff winks at him.

“I’ve got you, buddy. He won’t get in the way at all.” Geoff promises. Ryan snorts and rolls his eyes.

“You gonna bang him now that I’ve showed that a Lad and a Gent can work out?”

“Dude we’ve been eyefucking for a while, just wait until I get him into bed.”

Ryan wrinkles his nose and waves his hand. “Don’t want to know.” Laughter from the other two Gents fills the car, and yeah, Ryan feels good about Ray. He really does. Ryan doesn’t know what’s going to happen or where anything in his life is going to go, but he thinks that the way his life is right now is pretty damn good. Maybe he’ll move out to the countryside once he’s done being a murderous madman and grow wheat just like his dad used to do. Maybe Ray will join him. as long as they have video games, of course. Ryan can’t forget about the video games. Whatever he’s going to do later in life is unclear, but Ray isn’t, and Ryan is happy.

 


End file.
